Page 50 of Never Will I Ever

My mind races through the possible reactions I’ll get from my olive branch, creating a swirling whirlpool of nerves in the pit of my stomach. They don’t dissipate in the time we’re on offense either. They might actually grow in all the time it takes for Kaleb’s team to round up three outs, but not before my team earns two runs.

With the score at 5-3—my team in the lead—we head back onto the field for the last full inning. My team is jacked up with excitement, feeling the high of a potential win, and as much as I’d love to share their enthusiasm, I’m trying to keep my lunch from making a reappearance when I offer the clipboard to Kaleb.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he takes it, and unlike me,he reads the note on the spot before I can even walk away. His expression turns impish as he shakes his head, muttering a playfully sarcastic, “You’re hilarious,”just loud enough for me to hear.

The smallest amount of relief sinks down to my bones.

He’s not mad about my tiny stint of trespassing, which was my main concern.

But with those extinguished by his banter, I’m able to focus on leading my team to another shut-out half-inning. It’s a close call at one point, but with Elijah and Max working together to get Colton out in one helluva double play, we manage to maintain our two-run lead.

“I don’t know if I should be annoyed or impressed,” Kaleb muses during our hand-off.

Laughing, I offer him a quick, “Why not both?” before heading in, reading his note on the way.

You planning to make me drink alone?

There’s those stupid butterflies again, which are equally as annoying as the stupid grin pulling at my lips, no matter how hard I try to keep it from forming. But what really has me struggling to keep my composure are the vibrations running through my body strong enough to register on the damn Richter scale.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“What are you smiling about?”

Startled by the question, I glance over to find Elijah trying to sneak a peek at what I’m looking at.

Shit.

Despite my recent efforts to quell the shaming voice inside me, the instincts shaped by it are still very much alive. Which is why I end up tucking the clipboard beneath my arm to hide the exchanges…and let the lie fall from my lips with ease.

“That we’re winning, obviously.” I motion toward the field with my chin. “Any chance I have to beat Kaleb at something is gonna make me happier than a kid on Christmas morning.”

Apparently, so does flirting with him.

Disgusting.

I wince and put up every mental block I can as the word bounces through my mind like a pinball, and instead, focus on the grin Elijah’s now wearing.

“Thanks for making me captain.”

I chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me. The way you’re playing proves I was right; you’re a natural leader.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t ever play like this when I’m not captain.”

“Because you’ve never been this confident.” When his brows crinkle in confusion, I elaborate. “Being picked last blows, right? You don’t feel very good about yourself when that happens, so why would you feel like you’re going to play well? But when you feel important and valued, like as a captain, you’ll play like you belong. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy either way.”

Elijah studies me for a moment, mulling my point over in his mind.

“Confidence,” he echoes, the word clearly tasting funny on his tongue from his expression.

“Believe in yourself, kid. You belong here.”

There’s a beat of silence before he floors me by whispering, “So do you, you know.”

I’m caught off-guard by the simple earnestness of the statement, and it has my heart squeezing behind my ribs.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the chance to thank him, because cheering breaks out on the field and draws my attention back up. Kaleb’s team is rushing toward home plate, clearly having just found their last out for the inning, and I haven’t even written back to Kaleb.

Quickly updating the score, I write the first thing I can think of before tucking the pen beneath the metal clip.

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